Parallel
by Chikku-Chikku
Summary: Prime Soundwave asserts his authority over his G1 counterpart. Slash, self-cest, crack.


**A/N:** ...I completely support self-cest! And I completely blame this picture for it -  jjstar. deviantart art/Operation-Crack-193776808. A quick drabble-ish thing, sprouted from the idea of parallel universes; how trippy and fun, eh? :3 And although G1 Soundwave is teh epic-sauce, I kinda picture Prime Soundwave as the more dominant one - but they both have tentacles, so it could go either way.

Warnings for, well, self-cest (which is partly why I'm putting this as T, though it's not intense enough to be M) and all that weirdness that comes with crack pairings. Hope you guys enjoy and don't murder me for the OOC-ness and rushed pace!

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><p><strong>Parallel<strong>

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><p>Soundwave stared at the strange, sharp-looking, purple-black mech before him. Or well, he <em>hoped<em> that was a mech.

The mech—alien, thing, whatever it was—just stared back at him with a blank, smooth panel of a facemask, unresponsive and completely immobile. Soundwave wondered if it was even functioning; he couldn't garner anything from its features, even if the robot's faint energy signature was slightly familiar, and he didn't completely trust Megatron's words on how "pleasantly surprised" he would be upon meeting this... _purple thing_.

All he registered was the Decepticon insignia on its armor and how it didn't seem to be attacking him—as of yet. But why, in all that was holy and Primus, wasn't it _doing_ or _saying_ anything?

"Designation required," Soundwave finally demanded. He held his blaster up menacingly as he took a cautious step forward. The sharp-looking thing continued to stare at him, face as blank as ever; the only indication it gave him of being online was the steady drone of its internal engines and the creak of its long joints as it shifted.

But Soundwave was a patient mech—a talent developed from vorns of raising trouble-making cassettes—and only met the visored-stare with his own visored-glare. He could wait all day if he had to, because he sure as slag wasn't going to leave this station until he got to the bottom of this thing's strange appearance.

Finally, the mech relented to an exasperated intake of breath and slowly placed both servos behind his back in an act of submission. He began to play distorted bits of audio spoken by various robotic voices from his speakers—none of which made any sense to Soundwave.

"_Megatron!_- our great leader... **has ordered me to**- _enter through the warp gate - _TO END UP HERE ON - this planet, not my own!... **but a** **parallel counterpart, my dear Soundwave**... _Now _- here I am."

Soundwave just stared at it slowly, his processor running ten miles an astrosecond before the only word that registered in his mind was repeated by the strange mech. "_Soundwave_," it uttered in a deep, booming voice that was definitely not its own. "**My designation** - _Soundwave_."

"Negative," the blue and white cassette player finally manage to find his voice. "Lie foolhardy and ridiculous – _I_ am Soundwave."

He could just make out the slight surprise and confusion on the blank panel of the mech's—he was sure it was a mech now—features before it took a slow step back. Then it played, in Starscream's all too familiar, screechy voice, "_Prove it!_"

Soundwave grimaced behind his facemask, not liking the idea of exposing his greatest asset to this impostor, but as his spark clenched with fury at the thought of someone taking his name and using it as an alias, he made up his mind.

Slowly, Soundwave lowered his blaster and began to transmute his knotted emotions into charged up particles of energy. He built up enough charge to release a single, concentrated pulse of telepathy, sending its snake-like tendrils straight into the mech's processor. He expected to meet a bare, exposed CPU—like most of the mechs he'd pry into via mind-penetration—but was surprised to find an enclosed metal wall filled with thousands upon thousands of cryptic defenses.

The pseudo-Soundwave appeared to be smirking behind his smooth panel of a face as he violently shoved back the pulses of energy, forcefully returning them to Soundwave's mind. "_Proof -_ **satisfactory**..." he purred. "However, I must - PROVE MY - _own point _**now...**"

Before he even had time to collect his wits from the rebound of discharged energy, the purple-black mech suddenly deployed two glowing bright tentacles from his chest and plunged them deep into Soundwave's own chestplate. A plethora of brilliant, ecstatic sensations soared through Soundwave's processor as he staggered back.

System fritzing, he weakly struggled through a fog of dizziness as the impostor released another tentacle, wrapping it around his body and holding him flushed to the ground. "Your actions – _not_ appreciated..." He trailed off as a too-curious fourth tentacle darted forward to caress one of his play buttons.

Oh..._Primus._

He shuddered with suppressed and very defiant pleasure, even as a strange bloom of warmth spread across his mind; the tentacles beginning a conquest over his body, digging into seams and crevices, tugging ruthlessly at complex circuitry and wires. With one last burst of frenetic willpower, Soundwave released his own slightly smaller set of tentacles—a defensive response to the unwelcoming probing—to stretch out and entwine with the impostor's.

Soundwave grabbed that slagging, teasing tentacle wrapped around his lower legs and sent it smashing into the mech's smooth faceplate. A crack ran along the edge of that blank face, and the mech turned his head sharply as Soundwave threw another tentacle straight where his optics should have been. "Retaliation _will_ be painful," he droned out in anger, though the effect was partially ruined by his cycling, overheated vents. The purple-black mech wasn't fazed, though; only continued to press his probes on Soundwave, even as they were snatched and sent reeling away by the cassette player's furious display of riposte.

"**Enough**," the impostor suddenly spoke up, sliding a fifth tentacle—_how many _did _he actually have?_—up Soundwave's exposed neck. He tapped lightly on the facemask. "_My suggestion..._ is to - _stay_ - **very, very** - STILL."

The sudden pitch in tone and demeanor had Soundwave pausing in slight apprehension, weapons slacking in the air. His pseudo-counterpart slowly sent the menacing tendril to the right side of his mask, sharp pincers tugging gently at both the face-armor and visor. At the same time, he watched as the mech carefully—almost meticulously—pried at his own cracked paneling, fingers latching onto the cover and removing it... to reveal sharp, brilliant, and _familiar_ golden-colored optics.

Soundwave didn't even notice that his own facemask and visor were gone now as he stared in bewilderment at the sight of this... this _mirror_ before him—a face that was almost identical to his; glowing, beautiful optics that were the exact replica of his; smooth, almost emotionless features that _were_ undoubtedly his...

"**My designation** - _Soundwave,_" the mech—_him—_said calmly, the hint of a smirk playing on his features. He slowly grazed that sensitive play button again in one quick, seductive motion.

Soundwave shivered as his counterpart leaned in closer, the edge of those long legs grating against him heatedly, and whispered in _his_ monotone voice, "**_Retaliation will be painful._**"


End file.
